


december 2nd: yuna's theme

by watergator



Series: december fic advent 2018 [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012 Era (Phandom), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: prompt: melodyphil misses dan's melodies





	december 2nd: yuna's theme

“Are we keeping it then?”  
  
Phil stands in the doorway of the empty room, save for the scattered cardboard boxes that litter the carpet as he nods over to the piano that sits tucked up against the wall.  
  
They’re in the middle of moving; they’d taken the few things they had from their little Manchester apartment and had scraped together enough money (along with some help from Phil’s parents) and taken themselves to London for their new life here together.  
  
It was new and exciting and scary. But it was the beginning of their future for them.  
  
Dan slaps a heavy hand against the old piano, a faint sound of keys echoing from the inside.  
  
“Fuck yeah,” he says a little breathlessly after hauling boxes up and down stairs all morning, “I’m choosing this over my shitty keyboard,” he laughs.  
  
Phil pouts. He loves Dan’s keyboard, loves the nights they’d stay awake all night and Dan would lay it across his knees over the covers of their bed and press away softly and create little melodies. It felt so small and intimate and cosy to have Dan play for him in the middle of the night whilst the rest of the city felt so far away beneath them up on their eighteen floor.  
  
“Keep the piano but don’t throw away your keyboard,” Phil tells him as he sorts through another box that’s been left on the ground.  
  
“Need a piano stool,” Dan mumbles as he looks over the wooden piano, and Phil looks up to watch Dan trace delicate fingers over the closed lid.  
  
“We can get one, yeah?” Phil smiles up at him, and Dan looks round at him to scoff a laugh.  
  
“Can’t afford one yet.”  
  
“We will.”  
  
Dan smiles so deep, his dimple pops and Phil’s heart flutters in his chest.  
  
“Come here lazy bones,” Phil says, ducking his head down back into the box full of dvd’s to stop himself from blushing, “you can fantasise about piano’s after you help me sort these out in the living room.”  
  
Dan just groans dramatically but helps anyways.  
  
*  
  
Dan doesn’t use the piano. His keyboard is shoved under his bed; his fake bed, and he doesn’t bother pulling it out once he’s left it there, and there’s no nights of soft music playing as Phil sleeps.  
  
Instead, it’s panicked rambles and stressed tears and Phil’s arms around his shoulders as they both crumble and build each other back up again almost every night.  
  
They’re stressed about the BBC. They’re stressed about YouTube and they’re stressed that they’d maybe made a mistake about taking the leap of faith and moving to London without anything to fall back onto.  
  
Dan doesn’t play melodies anymore, but instead sits up until three am and tells Phil in a quiet voice that he thinks he made a mistake dropping out of university, and then with the same breath he’d stress to him how much he’d never want to go back.  
  
Phil doesn’t fall asleep to the twinkly sound of Dan learning a new song, but instead holds his boyfriend until he succumbs to exhaustion, finally, and runs a shaky hand through his hair.

And eventually Phil starts to sleep alone, with Dan in the other room, hunched over a computer with bitten lips and red ringed eyes as he works tirelessly on a new video.  
  
Phil tries to tell him to come bed, practically begs for the days they’d fall asleep with that silly little keyboard on their knees, but Dan just snaps at him and tells him to go to bed, and Phil slumps off to a cold and lonely bed.   
  
No sweet little melodies to lull him to sleep.  
  
*  
  
Phil wakes to the sound of a melody coming from beside him where he sleeps, _Final Fantasy_ , he thinks.   
  
“Is that…” Phil turns to face Dan who stops playing at the sound of his voice, “Yuna’s theme?”  
  
Dan blinks down at the keyboard on his lap, and then back up at Phil, and nods.  
  
“Yeah. Sorry, did I wake you?” he whispers, shuffling under the covers a little.  
  
Phil pulls himself up a little to face Dan better, and shakes his head.  
  
“No, it’s – I’m just more used to falling asleep to your music than waking up to it,” he smiles.  
  
Dan doesn’t say anything, and instead looks down at the silent keyboard.  
  
Phil glances out the window past Dan; it’s still dark out, possibly early morning,  
  
“Why’re you playing?” Phil asks softy, “Not that I’m complaining.”  
  
Dan shrugs, “Dunno. Guess I just… wanted to.” His voice is raw and low, almost like he’s been crying.  
  
“It sounded good. You been practicing?” Phil asks, pushing up again until he’s fully sat up now.  
  
Dan shakes his head, “Not really. Although, I think I’m slowing learning the song the more I listen to it,” he whispers.  
  
Phil nods. “You can keep playing, if you like.”  
  
Dan doesn’t answer, but instead rests his fingertips lightly against the keys. He waits a few seconds, before pressing down.

He plays the slow, gently and familiar melody so gently that it could melt Phil like butter against the bed. He watches careful and skilled fingers brush softly against keys, and his eyes flicker up for a second to watch the concentration on Dan’s face; barely being able to see in the dim light, but enough to watch the way his lips purse and his dimple craters against his cheek.

Phil tilts his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes. Dan continues to play, slow and softly, and against the early morning traffic that begins to build up outside their window, for now their little bubble that contains just them and this melody is the only thing that exists to Phil.  
  
Moments pass as Dan continues the song, and when it stops it’s like Phil’s been pulled back down to earth by his feet.  
  
“Good?” Dan whispers to him in the quietness, and Phil opens his eyes and looks back at Dan with a soft smile.  
  
“Brilliant,” he whispers back.  
  
Dan snorts a laugh, and pushes the keyboard away from his legs, burrowing himself under the covers where Phil slips down beside him,  
  
“Was shit,” Dan mutters but Phil just scoots closer to him until their inches apart from each other, their knees knock together under the warmth of their covers.  
  
“Wasn’t. I missed that,” Phil says quietly. Dan just closes his eyes, and Phil’s so close he can see the each and individual eyelash that rests against his cheek. Every freckle that dots over his skin where the sun has reached him over the years.  
  
“Missed _you_.” Phil says after a long silence, and Dan opens his eyes, his thick brows turn into a sad frown.  
  
“I’m here,” he says, and his fingers crawl to find Phil’s, intertwining with one another.  
  
Phil takes his hand and squeezes it. “You sure?”  
  
Dan’s eyes flicker over Phil’s face, and after a while, he nods.  
  
“Think so.”  
  
Phil pulls him in closer. “Good. I’m here too.”  
  
Dan hums, and closes his eyes, squishing up to Phil until their legs are tangled and their foreheads bump together. Phil lets out a little breathy laugh and Dan just rubs a bare foot up Phil’s leg.  
  
“Love you,” Phil mumbles sleepily. “Love you and your music.”  
  
Dan rubs his forehead and Phil’s affectionately, his fringe tickling Phil’s face.  
  
“Love you too,” he whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


End file.
